#bat cellphone

[projectbatman193]

Darn it! They got me!! If they got you too then reblog it!

[osachiyo]

❛ WHAT'CHA READIN'? ❜

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — n/sfw content, teasing, edging, getting caught while reading erotica/smut, full nelson, oral (m recieving), cock warming, kolya's is the longest bc yea, squirting, kind of 4th wall breaking in kolya's etc • here it isss !! i didn't expect so many people to want this but im glad i got to write it. anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread

ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3

𝟎.𝟎𝟎𝟏 — 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈

his hands flew to her neck, squeezing not too hard — but firm enough for her to get dizzy with pleasure. "lily, you're simply ethereal like this," the man on top of her groaned, hips still pounding away, his pelvis slapping against her thighs with each thrust. she moaned, nails raking down the crown prince's back, all while —

"..her pretty cunt squeezed around him at the heartfelt praise,"

you felt someone whisper from behind your shoulder, making you quickly slam your book closed and whip your head towards that direction — only to see your boyfriend, dazai, standing there with a cheshire-like grin on his pretty face.

"i didn't know you were into historical books, babe!" he said with a teasing tilt in his voice, making your right eye twitch. "r-right... ahem — anyway, you really shouldn't sneak up on people like that, osamu," you scowled, clutching said book close to your chest.

"yeah? and you really shouldn't read dirty books at work like this, sweetheart," he tilted your head up to face him, "what if it was kunikida-kun instead of me, hmm?" his voice was playful, and if you knew him, you knew that he was hinting at something — if it's wasn't obvious already by the prominent bulge in his slacks.

"well, aren't you eager?" dazai huffed out a laugh at the way you grinded on his thigh, trying to reach your precious book that was in his hands now. "her back arched like a cat's as the prince pounded away at her — not having an ounce of mercy for the poor maiden," dazai read in a mocking tone — all while flexing his thigh under your cunt, which you were humping for dear life. "please," you pawed at his chest, hips twitching with the need for release.

"please what, baby?" he grinned mischievously, free hand snaking down to land a playful smack on your breasts, before squeezing them. "please let me cum," you whined once more, batting your wet lashes at him in hopes of getting at least a tiny bit of mercy.

"well.." dazai hummed, placing the book to the side, before sitting you fully on his lap and unzipping his slacks — "since you want it so bad, work for it."

𝟎.𝟎𝟎𝟐 — 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀

you and chuuya were in his office, with him working and you on your phone.

chuuya noticed how unusually quiet you got — and how.. strange you were acting as you scrolled further down on your cellphone.

his eyebrows furrowed as he saw your pupils dilate, your breathing getting uneven and you clenching your thighs.... oh.

a smirk found it's way on his handsome face as realization hit him — you dirty, dirty girl.

"what'cha readin' there, babe?" chuuya raised an eyebrow at the way you flinched when he suddenly spoke up. "um.. just some romance story, you won't like it, chuu," you tried to keep a straight face as your boyfriend got up from his seat, and stalked closer to you.

"oh yeah?" chuuya inquired further, "let me see."

"NO!— i mean — you really won't like it, babe," you smiled nervously and clutched the little device closer to you, which only made chuuya's grin spread further. "riiighhtt."

a gasp tore from your lips when your phone was snatched away from you by the ginger man — he was way too fast and strong for you to fight back, so you just sat there — blinking dumbly as he read the contents of your little "romance story."

"really? a mafia boss x reader? heh," chuuya snickered, voice holding a teasing tilt to it, "ya got a thing for boss, or somethin'?"

"NO! oh god, chuuya — give it back!" you finally recovered from your state of stupor, lunging at chuuya — who caught you in his arms with ease. "easy there, sweetheart. now, how about i give you the real fucking thing instead of this stupid... fanfiction, yeah? bend over f'me, doll."

loud clapping could be heard from outside of chuuya's office — it was so embarrassing if anyone walked by, especially akutagawa, but chuuya didn't seem to care one bit.

your tight little pencil skirt was bunched up, panties pulled hastily to the side as chuuya's narrow hips slammed against your ass, gloved hands gripping your hips so hard that you feared it would leave marks. "you like that, baby? like it when i grind into you like this?"

chuuya slowed his thrusts only to grind his hips in circles — making you see stars as you desperately clawed at the mahogany desk.

a sudden knock on the door sent your mind spiraling from pure pleasure to uneasiness. surely he wouldn't —

"come in, akutagawa."

𝟎.𝟎𝟎𝟑 — 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑

"don't flip the page, darling, i'm not done yet,"

you flinched at hearing fyodor's smooth, rich voice from behind you — startling you enough to drop the book from your hands, which conveniently landed on your lap. you looked behind to see your husband, who had a smirk on his handsome, pale face — "f-fedya!" you smiled nervously, "you were.. behind me this entire time?"

"why of course, my dear. i was wondering what type of book my beloved wife is into, and i.. certainly didn't expect this."

fyodor's tone was condescending, derogatory even — making your face heat up in embarrassment and shame. "now now," he tilted your chin up to look him in the eye, "there's no need to be ashamed, darling. though i can't deny that i'm a little upset from you going behind my back to read something so sinful," fyodor clicked his tongue, shaking his head gently before narrowing his amethyst eyes at you, "i believe you need to.. make up for this little... mistake of yours. won't you be a good girl and do as i say?"

you gulped before nodding hesitantly, sweat dampening your palms at the sheer nervousness you were feeling.

"good. on your knees."

fyodor held your head down on his cock, the small tuff of black hair tickling your nose —he didn't give you a chance to catch your breath. the feeling of the tight walls of your throat, along with the pretty view of you looking up at him with those teary eyes almost had him going feral. he wanted nothing more than to just pull your head back and face fuck you — but no, he had you cock warming him with your cute little mouth instead. all while he read his own book.

now, you might want to think twice before reading something so filthy behind his back again — unless you wished for an even worse punishment, that is.

𝟎.𝟎𝟎𝟒 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈

"dove, can i ask you a little question?"

nikolai wrapped his huge arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest and resting his head on your shoulder, waiting for an answer with a grin.

"what is it, kolya?" you tried to turn to face him, but nikolai's grip only got tighter — his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, "who the fuck is 'toji fushiguro' and why were you reading smut about him?"

nikolai felt you stiffen in his arms — a shiver running down your spine at his warm breath hitting your skin, along with the embarrassing fact that your boyfriend had seen what you read on your phone. fuck.

"hmm? no denying?" he teased, freakishly large hands skimming over your torso, then settling all the way up to your breasts. "he's just a.. fictional character, love," you winced at how fucking embarrassing that sounded — which only resulted in nikolai letting out a snicker.

"really? you wound me, sweet pea — am i not good enough for you, that you have to settle for reading smut about fictional men?" he dramatically put a hand over his chest, but you both knew that was not true. "i'll just prove myself to you then, mm?" nikolai grinned, planting a kiss on your clothed shoulder.

you groaned, "n-no! baby, it's just —" "full nelson, huh?" nikolai cut you off — his expression dark as a borderline scary grin settled on his lips. "that was the position right? you could've just told me you wanted to try it! come on, little dove — i'll show you full nelson."

that's how you ended up with your legs against your chest, nikolai's huge arms hooked under your knees to keep you secured against his chest — all while his thick cock plowed into your cunt.

your mouth dropped into an 'o' shape, drool dribbling down your chin to your tits — the mounds bouncing up and down erotically as you were drilled into from below.

"god, just look at you,"nikolai groaned — his arms flexing beneath you as he bit the juncture of your shoulder, the soft skin littered in bruises and bite marks. his heavy balls were clapping against your ass with each rough thrust — your pussy felt like it was splitting in half from the sheer girth of his dick.

"oh yeah, baby — cum f'me, a-agh — cum on this cock," nikolai's voice was slurred, thick and heavy with lust as he encouraged you to soak his length in your juices.

and soak him you did — spraying your arousal all over the floor, his cock and balls were dripping with it — as you went limp in his arms. but he didn't stop, no — he didn't stop until he was cumming deep in your womb, the creamy substance leaking from your cunt from just how much there was.

© 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ do not copy/translate/repost and/or recommend any of my works on different platfroms under any circumstances. reblogs greatly appreciated !

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch @little-miss-chaoss

[exindiv]

Chiros

Commission for Chiros. (Chiropica on FA) Everyone's favorite micro bat enjoying some synthwave sounds.

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit modern au!

an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office

Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks. 

You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway. 

With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you. 

The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator... 

Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk. 

She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer. 

Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such. 

But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“

Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined. 

“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different. 

“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her. 

You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment. 

“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)

“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“

She holds up a single manicured finger. 

“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“

Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails. 

And finally, he answers. 

“Hm? You need something, honey?“

“Miguel.“

Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat. 

“What is it, sweetie?“

You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”

Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning. 

“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“

“Thank you, Miguel.“

The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder. 

Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary. 

But, you don’t. 

“Ah, Miguel, this p-“

“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“

The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile. 

“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms. 

“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting. 

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“

Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk. 

“Tiffany.“

Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever. 

“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“

“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“ 

“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“

Miguel: 1 Tiffany: 0

Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth. 

“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“

Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp. 

Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.

“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“

Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead. 

“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla. 

“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“

“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”

“No. You called Lyla annoying.” 

these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!

- cosmosis <333

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fic idea: Keep the God Kid Busy!

So the JL are messing around with magical artifacts that shouldn't be. Well, it's more like they stopped a considerable cult that was running around killing people across multiple countries, which made it hard to pin them down. Thankfully, they finally gather all of their ritual stuff and are now placing it in the storage on the watchtower to study and safeguard.

Someone accidentally activates something- I'm thinking Booster gold or maybe plastic man?-by touching it with a hand bleeding from a paper cut. They didn't think it was going to affect anything, but suddently the large slap of stone with unknown writing starts glowing glowing then its starts leaking oozing green goo and everyone panics. They call in Batman assuming he know what to do.

And he does.

He calls John Constantine who looks at the slab with a confused frown. It's not that he can't read it, but rather it's confusing to read.

""I'm here to protect but only if you text," John reads out loud. When the others give him looks, he raises his hands. "Word by word, I swear. But this is thousands of years old. Older than Göbekli Tepe, so I don't understand why this being knows the word text."

"Could they have meant text as in a ancient writing?" Batman asks.

"Not with the cellphone next to it" and now that Constantine points it out, the hieroglyph next to the writting, does look like a old cellphone- not a flip phone but a early design of blackberry.

"What is the slab of stone doing?"

"Summoning a Ancient" Constantine says

Wonder woman freezes "A God!? It's getting a God"

The ooze raises turning into a swirling portal right above the ground. A few of heros feel a odd sense of danger and comfort coming from it. Constantine sighs rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah and he's almost here. So we should think of what to say instead of oops it was a accident"

And just like that Danny Phantom, High King of the Dead, is standing above the stone looking around wide

The ooze raises turning into a swirling portal right above the ground. A few of heros feel a odd sense of danger and comfort coming from it. Constantine sighs rubbing his eyes.

And just like that, Danny Phantom, High King of the Dead, is standing above the stone, looking around with comprehensive eye

"Omg, is the world ending?! The Justice League summoned me cause the world is ending, right?! I'm ready! I'm so ready! LETS DO THIS"

It seems Danny Phantom is also a really excitable being. It's a bit unnerving how it reminds them of Klarion the Witch Boy

The justice league, in order to avoid offending the highest god just make up a random emergency at Constantine recommention because higher beings do not like being called for no reason.

They call in the rest of the league to keep up the lie in a controlled environment and soon are taking him across the world helping with "disasters."

Danny is meanwhile fanboying out because it's the JUSTICE LEAGUE. They called him! He was helping BATMAN :D!

He takes a selfie with the big bat in the background and texts it to Tucker and Sam, throwing peace sign.

His friends respond with lots of excited emojis.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Y’all ate this Hotch x BAU!reader imagine up 👀 Who am I to deny you more when asked so nicely? 🖤

Things remain strictly professional while the case is ongoing, your team and the Seattle division’s sole focus on catching the unsub. But once your resident bad guy gets his one way ticket to a life sentence, Aaron’s former colleague insists on celebrating over drinks…

“I can’t believe you completed the triathlon!” Agent Brandt exclaims with a laugh, her hand coming to rest on Aaron’s arm. From her spot in the booth opposite to you, JJ nudges your leg under the table. Your gaze cuts to hers, and you resist the urge to mime gagging yourself on your straw. Instead, you use it to suck up the last of your second mojito. There are a few appreciative titters around the table and Brandt soldiers on, “Who would’ve thought our nerdy prosecutor turned agent would do something so athletic?”

“Make no mistake, the nerd is still hiding underneath these muscles,” you chime in with a coy smile, the mix of jealousy and rum swimming in your veins giving you the push to overtly squeeze your husband’s bicep for good measure.

Aaron pointedly clears his throat and directs a frown towards Emily whose cellphone camera has made an appearance just over the lip of the table to no doubt document the scene unfolding for Penelope’s benefit. “All the credit goes to my partner here,” he says rather smoothly before draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Oh wow,” Brandt says through a tight-lipped smile, “you did it, too?”

“Sure did,” you respond cheerily while using your straw to swirl the mint leaves around the bottom of your empty glass. Aaron can hear the mischief building in your tone and he pinches your side half-heartedly in warning, but you quietly smack his hand away and continue, “Gotta stay in shape to fight off all the soccer moms vying for this guy’s attention at Jack’s games.” You allow yourself to relish in the flash of recognition in Brandt’s eyes before she slowly retracts her hand from your husband’s arm.

“Goodness,” she laughs and has the grace to blush at her earlier conduct. You feel a twinge of guilt until Aaron’s former colleague looks at him and says, “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

Derek covers up his laugh with a cough, and Emily mouths a delighted uh oh. Aaron turns to you with a silent plea in his eyes to let the comment go, but your lips are already twisting into a, “Me neither, babe.”

“She’s just teasing,” your husband is quick to soothe all parties’ ruffled feathers as his colleague’s blush grows a shade darker and she studiously avoids making eye contact with you. “We’ve been married for a few years now.”

“And what a wonderful few years it’s been seeing the two of you grow together,” the eldest member of your team adds with a sense of finality. You flash a grateful smile at Dave, and the conversation takes on a more lighthearted tone over the next and final round of drinks.

—————

On the jet back home the next day…

Your novel tumbling out of your hands and onto the floor of the jet has you jolting awake, and Aaron shoots upright in his seat across from you. A quick glance around reveals the rest of the team suspiciously engrossed in their respective activities- Derek’s listening to his post-case playlist, Spencer’s reading yet another book that’s above your pay grade, Emily and Dave are sharing sections of the New York Times, and JJ’s on her phone, likely texting Will- but the fact that no one so much as bats an eye at the startling noise tells you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand why you and your husband just can’t seem to stay awake on the early morning flight.

In answer to their unspoken question, you offer, “Didn’t sleep well last night,” by way of an explanation, fighting the blush threatening to creep across your guilty cheeks.

With a click of his teeth, Derek laughs out, “My man,” and Emily pipes up, “We’ll chalk it up to a hangover.”

“Behave, all of you,” Aaron counsels in an utterly non-threatening monotone, his voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to scold them, just crosses his hands over his chest and settles back in his seat to get some much needed rest. The corner of his mouth ticks upward for the briefest of moments before his features fall back into their emotionless state.

You tap his ankle with your foot and one eye cracks open to find you smirking at him. “I saw that.”

“Get some sleep, Agent Y/L/N,” he orders in lieu of addressing being caught.

Tugging Aaron’s suit jacket higher up on your body, you dutifully close your eyes and hunker down under your makeshift blanket. Already drifting back off to sleep, you murmur, “That’s Agent Hotchner to you, mister.”

Aaron’s answering smile could rival the sun itself.

—————

[A/N: Idk if I like this 🙃 But then again, I go through these mental gymnastics every time I post my writing on here]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[qcomicsy]

The office but it's just the Batfamily.

Batman/Bruce, in the middle of a huge argument in the diner room: I have no favorites.

Batman (to the camera): My favorite is Cass. She can neutralize every single one of us.

Camera on cass eating a bagel, while Bruce narrates: And I respect that.

---

Duke: Cass.

---

Cass: Duke.

---

Steph: Cassie!

---

Selina: You know who it is.

---

Jason (to the camera): Dick? Oh that's so fucking easy it's the gremilin

Tim (To the camera): It's the gremlin.

Oracle/Babs (To the camera): Damian.

Steph: Evil child.

Damian: Me.

Dick as nightwing in a rooftop walking around with his hands: Oh my god, I can't belive you even asked me this??! We are all a big ass family and- We just keep going, like there's so many people here who I never saw before snd they just *poof* keep spalming and- Like cmon guys get a grip-

Dick (To the camera): *sight*

Dick:... It's Damian.

----

Jason (To the camera) without batting an eye: Tim.

Cameraman: I'm sorry- *checks notes* I'm confused... Didn't you to- Tried. to kill Tim Drake once?

Jason:

Jason: So?

------

Tim (To the camera): I feel like I should say Bruce....

Tim: I mean it needs to be someone I admire, respect, enjoy and stand up for despite all flaws.

Tim: Like despite every single wrongs right?

Tim:

Tim:

Tim, horrofied: Oh my god it's Jason.

Jason on the other side of the window behind Tim wearing a full Red-Hood atire and holding a cellphone gen 1: HA-HA.

----

Alfred (to the camera): It's not Master Bruce.

Bruce: Alfred? Definitely not me.

Dick: It's Bruce.

Alfred (to the camera): You don't raise as many children as the fate bring to your doorstep by yourself, take care of their wounds, wait for them in a cold night without getting any type of rest until you receive a single sign indicating that they got home safe and then get the luxury to choose.

Alfred (To the camera): I wouldn't even consider the luxury of choosing.

Alfred, serving tea at the dinner table: You all made my hair go gray equally.

----

Babs (To the camera): Me.

----

Damian: This is ridiculous, obviously I would pick my father.

Damian to the camera: Nightwing.

---

Harley: I'm not even sure how y'all let me be part of this.

Camera man: We didn't-

---

Commissioner Gordon ( To the camera): If I'm being honest I feel like I resent every single one of them.

Commissioner Gordon: Except of course, my daughter.

[ravenna-reid]

devotion

Timmy x Reader because I am currently going through Tim Drake brain rot

⊹✧⊹

"Tim?" His name rang through the comm like it was a warning.

"Yeah Nightwing?"

"I think you should come back to the cave. It's kinda urgent."

Tim's footsteps stilled. "What do you mean?"

Dick let out a long sigh. "It's y/n."

In that instant, it was as though someone had replaced Tim's bones with lead. He felt it weigh him down as anxiety began to pulse in his chest.

"What do you mean Dick? What happened?"

Tim already had his cellphone in his hand, but there were no missed calls or messages from you. He knew you had gone out on patrol tonight; Bruce had put you with Dick and Cass, whilst he was forced to go with the bat himself.

Prior to going on patrol, you had given Tim sweet reassurances, and as much as he hated being separated from you, he reluctantly agreed.

His finger had instinctively hooked around your pinkie. "Remember the knuckle busters I gave you." He'd said.

And you had smiled. "Of course."

Now Tim was torturing himself thinking about all of the possible things that could have happened to you on patrol.

"I don't know Tim," Dick continued, "But something happened tonight and she won't talk about it. She's gone mute."

"You better hurry up and get back replacement." Jason chimed in, the sound of the thugs he was beating hitting the ground in the background.

"Shut up Jason." Tim snapped.

Ripping his comm out, he looked over at Bruce, assuming he heard it all. Bruce could tell Tim wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Go."

⊹✧⊹

Tim basically tore through the cave in search of you, his bo staff and mask disregarded on the ground. He immediately saw Cass sitting on the med bed and Dick standing beside her, arms crossed, and headed for them.

"Where is she?" He asked, voice eager and breathy like he'd just sprinted all the way back to the manor.

Cass glanced over at Dick, and Tim didn't miss the sorrowful look on her face.

"She's upstairs in your room-"

"What happened?" He cut Dick off.

The two exchanged glances, then Cass eyes averted to the floor and Dick's eyes went back to Tim. "The mission was going fine. Y/n was fine. Her usual self; strong, determined, hell she was taking out most of the guys herself." Dick shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "Then we got separated for a few minutes-"

"What do you mean you got separated?" Tim asked, tone stern and accusatory.

Dick continued on with the story. "Cass and I couldn't find her and when we finally did, she was like a ghost..."

Tim's face was going red with anger and his expression read blame, until Cass grabbed his arm. His eyes shot over to hers. Cass raised her hand and pointed upstairs, and with the nod of his head, Tim agreed and left them without another word.

⊹✧⊹

Tim wanted to practically walk through the door to his room, but instead, he gently opened it so he wouldn't startle you. He had no idea what condition you were in, and that made it agonising. So preparing himself for the worst, he quietly crept through the door.

The room was dark, the only source of light coming from his ensuite light. "Y/n?"

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he finally looked over to the windows, and there on the window seat sat you. Staring up at the full moon. A relieved sigh fell from his lips. "Y/n."

You turned to look at him and got to your feet as he quickly rushed over to you.

"Tim." Those were the first words you had spoken in almost two hours.

Tim's hands traced down your arms, seeking any sign of injury, before his eyes skimmed over your torso and neck. Then his hands moved to cradle your face, his gaze searching your eyes for any hint of conflict or pain.

"Y/n, where are you hurt? Are you alright?"

As stupid as it was, shame began creeping up on you. "I'm ok Tim, I promise." You grabbed hold of his hands and pulled them away from your face. "Dick contacted you, didn't he?" You faked a smile.

Your not so subtle action caught Tim completely off guard as he stared back at you. It was hard to read you in the dark with only the moon and distant light aiding him, but that didn't stop him from trying.

"Yeah, y/n are you sure you're ok?"

You took a small step back. "Yeah, I promise it was nothing. I'm fine." You tried hard to mask everything with that smile of yours, but it made Tim even more uneasy. He'd thought something physically happened to you. That you were injured. Bruised and bleeding. But now he knew the hurt you were experiencing was running a lot deeper.

You took a sharp breath in. "How was patrol?"

Your voice wavered, and that coil of anxiety was beginning in Tim's chest all over again.

"Y/n..." His finger hooked your pinkie, a small habit of his. He took a step forward to close the space between you, and with the window seat behind you, you had nowhere to go. "Come on, what happened during patrol?"

You let out a deep breath, your head swimming with thoughts. "It's just, I don't know. We ended up getting separated tonight...and when I ..."

No. You instantly cut yourself short and berated yourself. A habit you had developed over the years whenever you were about to talk about how you felt. A fearful expression painted your face and it pained Tim to see it.

"Honestly, it was nothing, I swear." You waved your hand through the air. "This stuff happens on patrol Tim. We've all been through it." You shrugged, trying to brush it off. But your eyes were wide and alert and you were oh so slightly trembling.

Tim rested his hands on your elbows now, tilting his head to catch your gaze as you turned your head from him. "Y/n, something reminded you of the incident tonight, didn't it?" He asked, voice so low and understanding. His thumb stroking your arm.

You bit your lip. "Yeah, but it's fine. The past is the past." You were trying awfully hard to avoid eye contact. "I can handle it, you know."

"It's not about that y/n." Tim's hands cupped your face and now you were forced to look at him.

Usually, you would cut and run. Always at the first sign of something becoming deeper. The first sign that told you someone was getting too close and they knew too much about you. The first sign of physical contact.

And yet...and yet. You could drown it all out with Tim.

"You don't have to be tough all the time. Stoic. Unbreakable. Not with me y/n." His strokes were delicate against the skin of your face. You silently nodded, taking his words in. Tim leant in and placed a long, tender kiss on your cheek. You closed your eyes, never knowing how to act when you received such affection.

Then you subconsciously leant into his touch and Tim was more than happy to pull you closer to him. Especially given it was something you rarely did. Now with your arms around his neck and his around your waist, he moved so that his lips were near your ear as he whispered, "You don't have to tell me what happened. Just let me take care of you y/n. I swear, you'll always be ok."

[ragingbookdragon]

Rudy pulled Alejandro aside before the team was about to depart. “Colonel, we need to talk.”

“Can it wait?” he asked.

“Alejandro,” Rudy said, voice lowering seriously. “I can’t get your wife to answer any texts.”

The Colonel’s eyes widened, and he started patting his own pockets for his cellphone, but he cursed himself, remembering he’d left it in the jeep before Graves had betrayed them. He strode to the table. “We have to put the plan on hold.”

The group looked at him, their expressions confused; Price stepped forward. “Why? What’s the matter?”

“My wife,” he replied. “Rudy cannot get her to answer. Something is wrong.”

“Perhaps she’s busy?” Soap offered.

“No,” Rudy said, shaking his head. “I’ve texted her over the span of the last few hours. Nothing.”

Price let out a sigh, looking to Ghost. “You?”

Ghost nodded. “I’ve met his wife. She’s needed here to run things smoothly. Losing her wouldn’t be wise.”

“Alright. All of you, pack up, move out.” He looked at Alejandro. “Where is she?”

“Home,” he replied, fear ebbing into his stomach. “She is home…alone.”

***

She opened the door to her home, gazing curiously at the armed guards outside in the dark. “Can I help you?”

“Missus Vargas?” one said. “You need to come with us. There’s been trouble at the base where your husband works.”

“Oh, God, what’s happened? Is my husband okay?” she worried, turning to grab her purse and jacket; she bent over, putting on her shoes.

“We’re not entirely sure, ma’am, but he told us to come collect you and bring you to safety.”

She started to open the door further when it suddenly hit her and she slowed to a halt, looking at them. “What’s the code-word?”

The two soldiers froze, sharing a quick glance between them. “Beg pardon?” one excused.

“The code-word,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “My husband and I have a code-word. He would’ve shared it with you if he told you to come for me.”

“Mrs. Vargas,” the other sighed. “Please, time is of the essence.” He reached for her and she slapped his hand.

She stood there, staring at them. “My husband didn’t send you.”

“This doesn’t have to get ugly.”

“It will if you cross the threshold of my house. I would advise you to retreat before you make a mistake you can’t undo.”

The one soldier reached for his gun. “You have one last chance to come quietly.”

Her jaw clenched and she inhaled deeply. “Elegiste a la esposa del coronel equivocado.”

***

Alejandro was on the edge of his seat, hoping to not see fire in the distance as they came up over the hill before his home. What he hadn’t expected to see was one of the Shadow’s jeeps abandoned, and his wife sitting on the front step of their house, a haggard look on her face.

“Detén!” he yelled, and Gaz hit the brakes; they climbed out and Alejandro ran up to her. “Mi alma!” he froze, eyes wide in shock at the sight of slick crimson covering her face and body. “Qué te pasó?” he breathed, the fear in his stomach turning to straight ice.

She lazily looked up at him, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, puffing the smoke from her lungs; her free hand held up the whiskey bottle. “Drink?”

Alejandro bent down, feeling along her body. “Dónde estás herido?”

She tried to shrug off his hands. “I’m fine.”

“Dónde estás sangrando?”

“I’m not wounded.”

“Lo siento, debería haber estado aquí para protegerte. Lo sien—”

“Alejandro!” she yelled, and he fell silent, watching as she stared him down, put the butt of the cigarette in her mouth and warned, “It’s not my blood.”

His brows pinched in confusion. “Who’s bl—”

Ghost emerged from the house. Alejandro’s eyes zeroed in on the item he was holding, shock dripping from him like each droplet of scarlet that came from the metal baseball bat. “I think the Missus maintained a very good home defense.” He looked at Alejandro. “You might want to have professionals clean the brains out of the carpets.”

She stood up from the step, one hand holding the whiskey bottle, the other throwing the cigarette out to stomp its life out; she yanked the baseball bat out of Ghost’s hand and turned around, walking down the steps. “Take me to the bastard who brought enemies to my house. Tengo un regalo que me gustaría devolverle.”

She stood at the jeep door and Price asked, “What’s that?”

Tossing something his way, she muttered, “The nametags from their uniforms.”

“Where are their dog-tags?” Soap asked, and she gave him a dead-eyed stare.

“Los empujé por sus gargantas antes de golpearlos hasta la muerte.” She didn’t say anymore, climbing into the jeep.

Alejandro walked over to them, sparing a glance back to the house. “I…should call someone to clean this up.” he took Rudy’s phone and dialed a number, talking quietly to someone.

Soap looked at Rudy. “What did Missus Vargas say when I asked about their dog tags?”

Rudy frowned. “She shoved them down their throats before beating them to death.”

“Jesus fuck,” he said, glancing into the door to see her staring straight ahead. “Remind me not to get on her bad side.”

As they piled into the jeeps, Alejandro leaned into his wife, murmuring, "Mi alma, how did you know they were enemies?"

She breathed deeply and laid her head on his shoulder. "No me dijeron nuestra palabra clave. Sabía que no los enviaste para protegerme." Looking at him, she added, "Defendí nuestra casa, pero por favor, no me obliguen a hacerlo de nuevo."

Alejandro nodded. "Nunca más. Siempre estaré allí de ahora en adelante para asumir esa carga por ti."

[msgexymunson]

Just imagine Eddie coming out of your bathroom, freshly showered, wrapped up in a robe, swinging around the end of the belt, ready to give you the sexy striptease of your dreams.

Except for when he connects his phone to the speaker, it doesn’t play the song he thought he had queued up—it starts blasting Baby Shark.

At full volume.

“Sonofa—”

It’s so loud it scares him, making him throw his phone. And you’re just dying laughing on the bed, clutching at your stomach as it rolls out of you, tears spilling down your cheeks as he tries to shut if off but somehow only makes it play louder.

Finally, he shuts it off, but his cheeks are scarlet and his eyes downcast as you shuffle to the end of the bed and reach out for him.

“It’s okay,” you hum softly, “If anyone could make that song sexy, it’s you.”

(hope you feel better soon, bub ily)

OK so this is absolutely everything!! I couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for the well wishes, love you babe ❤️

Warnings: modern AU, NSFW, Minors DNI, established relationship, allusions to p in v sex.

Masterlist

The first time it's a mistake. A hilarious one, but still a mistake. The first time leads to silly sex; all giggles and firm kisses and jokes and mock threats.. and soft touches.

And then grasping hands, and needy fingers, and moans.

The second time, it's a prank. You've just come out of the shower, all pink and clean, in your robe and towel, swaying into the bedroom.

"Oh, am I getting a little show?" Eddie's eyebrows raise, as he settles into the pillows, shit eating grin smeared on his face.

"Maybe... shall I set the mood?" You ask suggestively, flashing a bit of leg.

"Woah, a proper show? Go ahead, princess."

His hands reach behind his head, laying back like a king in his marital bed. You playfully smirk and turn on your little speaker, hearing the tell tale blip of the Bluetooth connecting. Slipping your hand in your pocket, you take out your cellphone, and press play.

"Baby shark do do-"

"Oh you goddamn evil-"

You laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more. Eddie's frowning, arms crossed firmly against his chest, neck and cheeks scarlet from the embarrassing memory.

The music is still playing, so you giggle and seductively drop your robe, fingers toying with the top of your towel.

"Come on baby, I thought you were into this."

He huffs, clearly torn between being angry at you and getting an eyeful. All resolve disintegrates when you drop the towel, running gentle hands over the top of your breasts. His eyes bug out when one hand drifts lower, toying with the tuft of hair on your mound.

"Stop it, I can't be mad when you-"

"When I what?" You ask, smirking, and start crawling toward him over the mattress, silky hands running up his shins, up his tensing thighs. Fingers snake under his boxers, teasing at the skin just shy of where he needs you. Tensing muscles, he grabs your hand before you can go further.

"Fine, you're forgiven just- fuck- turn that song off."

The third time, it was an in joke. Oven mitts on, you check on the casserole you've made, humming to yourself. Another 20 minutes you think, give or take.

Large hands grasp at your hips from behind, pulling your top up slightly to massage at your skin.

"You asking for it? That why you're humming that?"

"Huh?" You ask, entirely confused, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

"You were humming 'baby shark', thought you might want some lovin," Eddie breathes into your neck.

Laughing, you turn to face him.

"Was I? And whats that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"Yep," he replies, knuckles dragging over your cheek, "thought that was our song. You want Daddy Shark to take care of you?"

Rolling your eyes, you bat at his chest in a vain attempt to push him away. "Our song? Fuck I hope we don't have to play it at our wedding."

He chuckles, dropping to his knees, busy fingers expertly undoing your jeans.

"Wedding? I'm just hoping you don't play it in the bedroom again."

All rational thought exits the building however, when he begins rubbing you just right.

"No, no, whatever you want, just keep doing that," you beg, hand winding into his soft locks to keep him there.

After that, you're not sure what it was. There was humor in it, sure, a hint of a past silly mistake, but it had warped over time. Now, it seemed like a hint, a wink, a promise of something to come.

It surfaced again at a gathering; the little gang were holed up at Steve's, watching some shitty rom com that had been voted as tonight's watch. Restlessly, you tap your fingers on your thighs, wound up to the point of breaking.

"Eddie," you whisper, chest swelling with need.

"Hmm?" He asks back, oblivious to your desires.

Opening your mouth to say something, you shut it, until the idea pops in your head and out of your mouth. Leaning in, your breath skates his ear.

"Baby shark, do do do do do do-"

"Oh, we need to go." Eddie calls out loudly to the troop, met with groans and head shakes from everyone.

"Seriously? Why?" Steve asks.

"It's an emergency, sorry guys."

He's on his feet, dragging you to the door. When you're halfway to his van, he whisper shouts at you. "That's a kids song. A kids song. It shouldn't make me halfway hard."

Laughing loudly, you snake your hand around his tight waist.

"Sorry baby, I needed my Daddy Shark."

Tag list

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[whorefordean]

mr. ghostface

wc: 1.6k

tw: language, unprotected sex, belly bulge, choking, slight degradation, slight dubcon perhaps, porn with barely any plot

a/n: this is pure filth, let me know if i missed anything!

p.s this is so ghostface!rafe coded however there is no name mentioned for gf. also @kaylablogsstuff i’m nervy

MDNI

you rolled your eyes as your phone rang for the third time. at this point, it's become a bigger burden to ignore it than to answer whoever the hell keeps disrupting your peaceful night.

you huff as you click answer and hold the phone up to your ear.

"hello?" you questioned impatiently, plopping down onto your bed.

"i'm a little offended, y/n. you write so fondly of me in this journal of yours, but you refuse to answer when i call," the distorted voice echoes throughout the receiver of your cellphone. embarrassment floods your system as you check your nightstand for your journal. shit.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you speak calmly as you try to slow your racing heart.

there's no way this is happening right now.

"so it wasn't you who wrote about how you would take ghostface's big cock like a good girl?" ghostface asked rhetorically. heat pooled low in your belly, causing you to clench your thighs together.

"tell me how much you enjoy this, princess" ghostface ordered, a teasing tone in his voice. unbeknownst to you, he was watching you struggle to gain some self control. you slowly drag your hand down your body, stopping to lightly trace random shapes against your skin once you reach your panties. you opt to put your phone on speaker and settle it beside your head.

"you look so pretty like that, princess. so desperate and needy."

you couldn't help the moan that tumbled out of your pouting lips. the tension in the silence is enough to send your hand into your panties.

"just couldn't wait, huh? such a whore that you couldn't wait any longer before rubbing your little cunt?" ghostface speaks. you shouldn’t be this turned on by the degradation you’re receiving from a killer, but everyone has their flaws. 

"you've read my journal. been wantin' you for so long, mr. ghostface," you answer honestly as you begin to tease your clit. you can hear shuffling on his end, and it's clear that he's touching himself too. his soft moans are echoing throughout your room.

"can you see me, mr. ghostface?" you ask breathlessly as you continue rubbing your slick. grunts echo through the phone, causing you to whimper in response.

"fuck. yea i can, princess," ghostface moans out before speaking again.

"i can see how wet your pretty little pussy is just from knowing i'm watching you," his voice is teasing, and you’re positive he can see the wet spot that’s forming in your panties.

"i wish you were here. i could take it," you can't stop the words from tumbling out of your lips, desperation dripping off your tongue.

"yea? would you let me use that sweet little pussy however i want? be my little plaything? gonna let me stuff you full with my cock, princess?" ghostface teases over the phone. his panting is getting louder, and you can hear how breathless he is. your fingers move faster on your clit as your moans and whimpers continue to escape.

you're too far gone to hear your front door click open. you don't hear his footsteps on the hardwood floor of your apartment. you don't even bat an eyelash as your bedroom door drifts open.

ghostface, unbeknownst to you, stalks over to your bed. he watches as your thighs shake with your approaching orgasm. he waits a moment, mesmerized by you. then, without warning, he yanks your hand out of your panties. you yelp in surprise as your eyes shoot open to see ghostface standing over you. 

“boo,” ghostface teases, causing you to jump slightly. you can’t stop yourself from scooting away from him just an inch. quickly, ghostface reaches out, wrapping his hand around your throat. he squeezes slightly before pulling you closer to him. 

“cat got your tongue, princess?” he speaks. your mouth is dry now, and you can feel your heart thumping out of your chest. you remain silent as you wait for his next move. as you stare up at his mask, you can’t stop your thighs from clenching together, desperate for any kind of friction.

ghostface grabs your thighs, roughly pulling them apart. you almost whine, but just as quickly, ghostface is shoving his hand into your panties. you inhale a shaky breath as he toys with your slit, purposely avoiding where you want him most. you shouldn’t be this desperate for him, but, god, you need him. 

ghostface withdraws his hand and releases your throat. you watch with bated breaths as he pulls his mask up just enough to expose his mouth. then, he slowly drags his other hand up to his lips, sucking your juices off each of his fingers. your jaw drops open as he smirks at you before pulling the mask back down. 

he leans in close and whispers into your ear. 

“you taste so fucking sweet, princess. maybe next time i’ll tie you up and spend all night in between those pretty thighs. see how much you can take until you’re begging me to stop,” his voice is hoarse, deeper now as he pulls away. 

you lift your hips as his hands slip into the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs. the wet fabric is tossed precariously across the room. as you attempt to hide yourself from ghostface, he tuts and pulls your thighs open yet again. you blush as he stares down at your weeping cunt. 

“i’m gonna ruin you,” he mumbles as he tilts his head slightly. you bite your lip and drop your head onto the pillow. your actions cause him to snap up to look at you. 

“you’d like that. wouldn’t you?” the question is rhetorical, but you nod anyway. though you can’t see it, ghostface is smirking under his mask. 

you gasp as he pulls your shirt off, leaving you completely exposed to him. without hesitating, his heavy hands are on your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. he lifts your hips up until you feel his clothed bulge resting again your bare core. you gasp and grind your hips, trying to relieve the tension settling inside you. 

a quick slap is delivered to your plump ass. you’re too focused on the pain coursing through your backside to notice that ghostface has pulled his jeans down just enough to expose his cock.  

he grabs his thick shaft, giving himself a few pumps before teasing his head through your wetness. without warning, he pushes into you, not bothering to let you adjust. 

you moan breathlessly, dropping your entire torso onto the mattress. he’s stretching you out so nicely, though you can’t ignore the pain seeping in from how deep he’s reaching. 

“come on. you can take it,” ghostface spoke condescendingly. his heavy cock pounded into you from behind, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

"it's too much," you moaned out. tears were rushing down your flushed cheeks. your body thrust forward with every shift of his hips.

the pleasure was too much, but you wanted this. god, did you want this.

"but you talked such a big game on the phone. you're such a desperate whore that you practically begged me to fuck you," ghostface patronized. his hand gripped your throat, pulling you up until your back hit his chest. ghostface stopped his movements, burying himself deep in you. his hand traveled down the expanse of your body, stopping at your tits momentarily. he toyed with your nipples, smirking under his mask as you mewled.

"so pathetic," he murmured, before continuing to lower his hand down your body. his large hand stopped on your belly, reveling at the feeling. he looked over your shoulder into the mirror across from your bed.

"oh, fuck," he moaned at the sight, moving his hips slowly. there in the mirror, he watched as your stomach bulged with his cock each time he thrust into you. you whimpered as you watched him. placing your hand over his, you held his palm firmly against your belly.

“see, you’re taking me so well, princess,” ghostface smirked as he whispered into your ear. the hiss he lets out as you clench around his cock has you throwing your head back in a moan.

“feels so good,” you babble. with trembling thighs, you come around his cock, mumbling nonsense as you do. 

“i know it does, princess,” he mutters into your neck, breathing you in. 

your brain goes numb when you feel his hips stutter to a stop inside you. you bask in the feeling of him emptying himself into you. you whine when ghostface pulls out, leaving his hot cum to drip down your thighs. 

he situates you onto the bed, laying you on your back. with an ache in your belly, your eyes flutter closed as you try to catch your breath. the bed dips as ghostface stands. peeking your eyes open just slightly, you watch as he tucks himself back into his jeans. silently, he leaves the room, and you can’t deny the embarrassment you feel. of course this is how it would end. he’d fuck you then leave. 

you roll over and try to settle, but your ears perk up at the sound of running water. the water stops just as quickly as it started, and heavy footsteps can be heard throughout your apartment. a few moments later, ghostface walks back into your room with a wet washcloth in hand. 

he can see the relief on your face and the tension leaving your body as he positions himself in front of you to clean you up. he feels you relax into his touch. 

“thought you left,” you mumble quietly. his masked face tilts as he glances up at you. 

“had to make sure my little plaything got taken care of, yea?” he answers.

[peachesofteal]

Alone

Chapter 1. Part eight of the Sassy series.

Simon Riley/female reader 2.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI (no smut but this fic has mature themes) PTSD, angst, brief reference to torture, relationship issues, soft dad Simon. You're empty handed and alone.

The sound of the second hand clicks repeatedly in the silence of the room, the tick- tick- tick- filling the dead air as you blink at the woman who sits in an armchair diagonally across from you, leather bound notebook spread open on her knee, fancy pen relaxed in her grip.

“And how have you been sleeping?”

“Fine.” You answer, and she gives you a raised eyebrow in response. You’re still uncomfortable in this room, this chair, this situation, but it’s begun to feel more routine now, although no less invasive. It always feels like she’s got you under a microscope, the pen digging around in your brain, rifling through the images of your nightmares and sweat soaked sheets, the terror from your dreams hard to distinguish from the reality of your memories.  

“How about your son? How old is he again?” The mention of Theo distracts you and makes your heart feel warm, the image of his smiling, giggling face pulling your own lips at the corners.

“He’s a happy, perfect little boy. Just turned four.” The doctor scribbles something down, and you shift in your seat. “Starts primary school next year.”

“Is he in nursery school?” Nursery school. You always forgot they don’t call it pre-k here.

“He is, yes. Loves it. Makes friends easily.”

“Any changes to his mood or behaviors?”

“No. I mean he has his outbursts. Tantrums, but it’s all normal kid stuff.” Silence falls over the office again. The minute hand moves like molasses towards your goal, three in the afternoon, and you casually sneak a glance at your watch, hoping maybe the office clock is slow.

“We still have ten minutes, Mrs. Riley, unless you want to call it here?” Shit. You grimace apologetically, trying to shrug it off.

“Sorry, I just ah… forgot I have to pick something up down the street, before I grab Theo from school.” You lie without a batting an eye and watch as she scribbles something else into her notebook.

“Very well. We can add the extra time on next week, if you’d like?” No. 

“Sure, that’d be great. Thank you.”

You stand with your hands shoved in your pockets, toeing a crack in the sidewalk while you wait for the front doors to burst open with excited faces, when kids will sprint headfirst into the arms of their caregivers, parents, nannies, or whoever.

Step on a crack. 

Your phone buzzes with a text message, the second one from the restricted number to come through in the last hour. You ignore it.

Break your mother’s back. 

“Mum!” Theo’s squeal breaks through the haze of the afternoon, and you look up to see him skipping down the stairs, carefully, before breaking into a run, little red backpack bouncing behind him.

“Bug!” you settle on a knee, arms open to give him a hug. His heart beats like a hummingbird in your embrace before he pulls away, babbling a mile a minute, enthusiasm spilling over about the singing rhyme they learned today.

“head, sh-woulders… knees an’ and toes!” He shrieks, stomping his feet with glee. You curl your hand around his for the walk home, and he chatters up to you, announcing the timeline of his day and casually calling out the colors and sizes of things that you pass. You press him into your hip on the far side, away from the road, casually scanning the street with every glance. Every face, every set of eyes that looks up or over at the two of you has your own narrowing, your fingers itching, your brain calculating. You tally every vehicle, count every body, all while keeping Theo’s little hand firmly in yours and nodding along to the story he’s telling you about his favorite activity from this afternoon. A block over, a man is yelling on the other side of the street into a cellphone, and a car is idling on the right. A woman hurries by the two of you with her head down, and a group of older kids from school are laughing and joking around where they’re huddled on the sidewalk ahead.

The world shudders and shakes around you, your vision vibrating around the edges for a moment before your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you release the breath you’ve been holding through your nose.

“Mum?” Theo tugs. You blink, and then smooth a palm over his head.

“Sorry baby. What do you want for dinner?”

You’re mid dinner cleanup when the doorbell rings, and you press your fingernails into your palms.

“DAD!” Theo screams, and sprints to the door in his socks, feet slipping against the polished wood floor.

“Hey, don’t run in the house!” You yell after him, but it’s no use. There’d need to be an earthquake to keep him from his dad at this point. He stands on his tip toes, trying to reach the door handle, and you lean over him to help, twisting the knob and pulling it wide.

“DADDY!” he screams, again.

“There’s my big lad.” Simon chuckles, and he bends down as he pulls the balaclava off, wrapping a giant arm around your baby’s back and pulling him up into his arms. Simon buries his face against Theo’s, eyes slamming shut as soon as he makes contact. He doesn’t move from the doorway, just stands there, holding his son as tightly as he can without hurting him. When he relaxes a bit, Theo wraps his arms around his dad’s neck, laying his head down onto his shoulder. Sweet, angel boy, you think as you watch the two of them.

“Hey, Sass.” Simon clears his throat, and you give him a nod, fingers tightly interlocked with one another.

“Hey.” You mutter. He closes the door, checking the lock while still holding Theo to his body, strong hand pressed to his back. Theo pushes against his chest, hand coming up to pat his cheek gently, face full of love and wonder as he stares up at his dad. You draw a deep breath and hold it for a long few seconds before releasing. “Theo, it’s going to be bedtime soon but there’s time for a book, if you want?”

“Daddy can read me a story?” Theo asks, eyes wide and hopeful. Simon places the boy on his feet, and you bend to brush some wispy bangs out of his face and give him a kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah baby. Daddy can read to you tonight.”

“Say goodnight to mum.” Simon instructs, and Theo wraps himself around your leg while you press another kiss to his forehead, an extra for good measure.

“Night, baby. I love you.”

“Luh you.” He says, but he’s already pulling away, a hand outstretched towards where Simon stands a few feet away, studying a blank spot on the floor. Theo latches onto him, trying to drag him down the hall and up to his room, stumbling over words trying to fill his dad in on everything he’s been doing. Simon gives him soft replies, the deep gravel of his voice drifting up the stairs as they creak under his feet. You disappear back into the kitchen, lungs burning with the new breath that you’re holding, and your hands find the soapy water of the sink again, dipping beneath the surface for the sponge, scrubbing and scraping the pot that you used earlier clean, over and over until the stainless gleams and your fingers start to prune.

“I want you to talk to me.” Simon pleads, a hand on the edge of the doorframe. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Si. I’m tired.” Your voice is low, a whispered attempt to avoid waking Theo. He looks over your shoulder to where the guest bed sits, before he finds your eyes again. 

“Please. Come to bed. Our bed.” You shake your head back and forth violently, and his hand reaches out for you. “Let me hold you, please Sass, I-"

“Stop it.” You hiss.  

You scrub the pot a little harder, the steel wool biting into the skin of your hand.

“You know what happens next, right?” The man smiles in your face, dirty teeth and bad breath nearly making you gag. He holds your head up by your hair, your scalp screaming when he tightens his fist. The blood crusted knife in his left-hand glints underneath the single, dim light that hangs from the ceiling. You close your eyes. 

Your skin is soft from the water in the sink, and the wool digs deeper, metal scraping against metal the only sound outside of your labored breathing. The pot is perfect and shiny now, restored to its former glory, but you don't stop. 

“I don’t want this.” He says, following you down the hall. You laugh bitterly. 

“It’s always about what you want, isn’t it.” You spit in response, and he pulls up short, steps faltering to a stop behind you. He says something softly, something under his breath that you can’t make out before you duck into Theo’s room, emptying the dirty laundry bin into your basket. A sob tries to force itself through your mouth, the pressure in your body nearly erupting when you cover your mouth with your palm and scream. 

The wool grates against your fingers uncomfortably, pulling you out from your own mind. You busy yourself with mindless things, putting the plates away and loading the drying rack, folding the dish towels and wiping down the stove. All meaningless tasks serving as a distraction, anything to take your mind off the fact that Simon is upstairs right now, probably holding Theo in his arms, kissing him goodnight and telling him how much he loves him. Your chest aches, and you force the mental images to disappear.

You’re still in the kitchen when you hear him on the steps nearly an hour later, and your throat goes dry when you feel him on the edge of the room. You don’t have to turn to know he’s there, the electricity in the house shifting across the two of you, an impossible tether that crackles and sparks every time without fail.

“Went down fine.” He says from behind you.

“Thanks.” You swallow.

“You didn’t answer your phone.” Your shoulders immediately tense, muscles stringing taut as you turn to face him, before you force yourself into a relaxed position, palms pressing against where your back leans on the counter.

“I was busy.”

“You need to answer your phone.”

“I’m not a dog. I don’t come when called.” You snap. “I don’t have to do anything.” He takes a half step into the kitchen, eyes dark and pointed, burning down into you.

“Sass.” His voice is low, a warning. You know the tone; you’ve heard it dozens of times before. You scoff and twist back around, mindlessly reaching for a glass, a dishtowel, anything to distract you. “Sass.” He says again. “It’s hard to co parent if you don’t answer the phone.” You bite down into your cheek until pain blooms across your mouth. You want to scream, want to turn around and throw the glass across the room, shatter it next to his head. Instead, you take a very deep breath and count to ten.

“He misses you.” You change the subject. Your voice is hushed, like you’re telling a secret, like you’re saying something the two of you don’t already know. What you don’t say lingers in the air between the two of you, untouched.

“I know.” Is all he gives you in response, and you say nothing, the silence settling over the two of you for what must be hours. He sighs, long and loud, and then turns to leave without another word. Something simmers beneath your ribs, beneath the scar on your side, beneath your heart. A million emotions pinch across your skin, drawing goosebumps to the surface and you shove it all down, packing it away where it doesn’t exist anymore. You whirl and step out of the kitchen, putting yourself just a few steps behind where he makes his retreat, shoulder blades shifting beneath his shirt when he pulls the balaclava over his face. When his hand finds the doorknob, he half turns back to you, the thoughts flickering across his eyes unknown and alien, a concept that once felt like an impossibility.

“Goodnight, Sass.” He says lowly, and you nod.

“Goodnight.” You whisper.

The gleam of his wedding ring mocks you as he shuts the door behind him, the click of a key in the lock echoing inside your empty house, where you stand in your living room, empty handed and alone.

[my-fancy-hat]

Introducing the Fall Devil as one of the Primal Fears tied this arc and maybe whole part 2 principal themes in one entire concept: the trip and fall into solitude and depresion in the starving desire for food, an allegory for our emotional needs, for connection, home. This chapter unpacked a lot of things and clear the landscape of Asa's modus operandis and psyche a bit more, as well as her dynamic with the rest of the cast incluiding her current motifs: cats and bucky, thematically speaking. Fall Devil supposedly is the first cheff in "cooking" nostradamus' prophecies, a direct request from the residents of hell, to feed hell's devils humans as food. She introduces just a taste, and appetizer like she calls it, of what is coming, and oh god it started really hard for Asa.

In the past I called Yoru unassertive for have chosen such an impractical person for her ends, after all Asa is a very lonely and awkward person who sucks to establish bonds, but now I kind of regret that statement, because in the recent flashback I did understand why Asa is the way she is and why the story chose her as War Devil's host: because she's self-loaded on guilt. Guilt is the special ingredient to make the perfect weapon, something that War Devil takes with pride. That's how Asa mutilates herself, prefers to sacrifice her own belongings and hurt herself instead of other people; she IS the perfect weapon for Yoru to use. Mitaka prefers cats rather than people, she doesn't know what's right or wrong in how she was willing to kill Denji even tho she knew he didn't deserve it, because when she trusted the wrong person to take care of her cat believing she did the right thing (the cat would feel better with other cats) it didn't end well, and in the aftermath, this person blamed Asa for having more than her and the other orphans that lost everything, as if this was rightful justice. Sounds familiar? yeah, Denji is his last breath in ch1 though the universe was punishing him for have wanted more, for having dreams of a better life. Here, Asa is punished for have loved more, in fact, the last memento of her death mother, a death that could have been easily prevented. Asa invalidates her feelings because acting on them have only made her fall, trip on the most crucial moments, to fail. She fell on top of Bucky, the devil she had to kill and eat, right after she had the epiphany she wanted to be recognized by her classmates, she fell while carrying Yuko from a certain death by the bat devil right after she decided to live by what she feels right, she fell and broke her cellphone right after she wanted to feel useful, she fell for Denji when he gave her attention and a couple of words of praise only to get stoop up in their 2nd date, she fell for Yoshida that easy because she's starving for companionship, and so on. She ends up right where she started, no changes. It's God punishment, she thinks. "She better off dead", no way of living is worthy for her, she's too little for such great things such as friendship, a boyfriend or family, hell, not even to have a pet.

Ironically, I believe the horsemen sisters and Denji will serve in Asa's proclamation of her own right to live (someone already tried but the narrative didn't want that *cofcof* Yuko). Kiga/Famine comfronts Asa with her needs not only for food, but for human connection, that's why her plan backfired because she and Denji bonded in the aquarium and worked together to escape and save everyone; Asa needs to recognize what she want. Yoru is already a less-friendly-Pochita for Asa, not only for have given her a 2nd chance to live (in a very controlled way) but in the sense to help her to take pride of her own life and feel unremorsed to fulfill her needs/dreams; it's ok to fail and trip. And lastly, Denji will help her to slowly open her heart and guide her way throught because, just like him, she's buried in regrets, past trauma and hunger too.

Denji *wasn't allowed to eat* cake, but went for it anyways and eat it with his bare hands, Asa *didn't bring herself to eat* fish, but at the end she took it in gag and tears.

To conclude this mess I just wrote and my personal thoughts, I love this new approach Fjmt is cooking aha it just hits right in my alley. Fall devil in her attacks kind of reminds me of Arael from Evangelion, the angel that invades Asuka's mind in showing her his deepest fears to defeat her. YES give me introspection and traumatic flashbacks. As Denji approach the area he will maybe have to face part 1's events in this mental landscape, to revive Aki and Power's deaths again, and if they both fall to hell, there's a chance he will encounter the gun devil and blood devil and worse the situation for him?! fuck. Here we go with the fucking doors again. I have no idea how they will defeat a primal fear devil tho, only Nayuta has the power to send her right back to hell if I have to bet. Anyways this looks promising af, I'm impatiently waiting for fujimoto to open the depression store next week

[salmonight]

DannyMay 2023, Day 15: Full Hazmat AU

Tittle: The Cleaner: First File

Summary: One day green glowing monsters started appearing and attacking cities all over the globe, and with them, arrived 'The Cleaner'. The Justice League has not uncovered any real information about them to this day. Meanwhile, Danny in a full hazmat suit: 'People can't even let me take a friggin nap!!'

One day,  green glowing monsters and people started to appear all along the globe. No one knew where they came from, only that they enjoyed wreaking havoc wherever they showed up. 

With the entities came 'The Cleaner' as they were titled. They always appeared no more than 10 minutes after a villain - from the ‘Green Dimension’, as they named it - showed up, and contained them in ten seconds flat,  immensely helping in keeping the damage to the minimum. 

The only saving grace was that these aliens never got anyone killed. Everyone in the Justice League found this observation extremely bizarre. But even with no casualties,  the repair costs were enormous. 

No matter how much the JL looked, there were never sightings of the figure other than during the fights, when they seemed to appear out of thin air. Internet searches came up blank as well, only filled with excited rants and candid photos taken by civilians. With these, they concluded that “The Cleaner” was either a) a brand new hero previously unknown, or b) from the same dimension the glowing entities came from. The whole League was miffed, with the Bats even more so, collectively losing their shit over having no contingency plans against the unknown figure.

Fully covered in a red and black hazmat suit nobody had a clue about their identity,  even their gender was shrouded in mystery. Somehow their outfit, even without being overly baggy managed to hide any distinguishing bodily characteristics that otherwise would have been visible. 

Until…. one day,  one of the speedsters overheard the ‘Cleaner’s’ rant. 

It went as any of their usual fights with the green monsters did. Not even a few minutes after the beast started to destroy the buildings, their mysterious hero materialized into existence in front of it. Instead of immediately throwing a punch like they expected, ‘The Cleaner’ instead stared at them with the most deadpan expression they could convey with a helmet on. For some reason, the speedster got a huge 'I’m-so-done-with-this-shit' vibe. Or that was just his overactive imagination. It was hard to tell with the headgear on. He must have gotten it right though, because then they tiredly put a palm to their face with one hand, and, without looking, flicked open the lid of a tube and sucked the entity into it with the other.

Surprisingly, The Cleaner didn’t immediately disappear once the monster was gone, so he took a few steps closer as they hung the green, metal tube ( which he could now tell was actually a soup thermos? What? ) back on his belt and pulled out an honest-to-god cellphone.

He didn't even have to strain his ears to listen in on the ensuing phone call since they were talking pretty loudly. And boy, did they sure sound pissed. 

“I swear to the Ancients, Tuck,” the ‘Cleaner’ complained, motioning with their hands aggressively to emphasize their point “If I have to come to fetch another one of these god damned brats I'm gonna treat them the same way they act and build them a time out corner in either the warden’s prison or the palace. I'm pretty sure both Walker and Frightknight would love to teach them a lesson about tact!"

There was a pause as he listened to whoever they were talking to on the other end of the line. “No, I don't care that they’re centuries older than me. If they act like spoiled children they get treated as such!” 

They let out an annoyed harrumph “I was taking a nap, Tuck. A NAP!!! You know I don't take naps! Not to mention I’m retired! What the hell am I? Their nanny? I don’t even get paid to clean up the messes they make! Can't they just keep their ecto ass sitting still in the realm for at least a few centuries to let me take my well deserved break!? But nooooo, these asshats have to make even more paperwork for me to do!" 

“When I told them not to break into Amity anymore I did not mean for them to go to another dimension and terrorize a whole-ass-planet!!!” The ‘Cleaner’ threw up their spare hand in exasperation.

 Their grumbling still could be heard as, with a wave of their hands, a portal opened, made out of a green swirling mass. Ignoring everyone else’s presence they stepped into the portal as it was the most common thing in the world. 

The speedster could only watch and gape at the now empty air. They certainly did not know they could do that. 

Now that he remembers though, they did sound like a male didn't they? He couldn’t estimate their age from the voice as it was very muffled coming through the headgear, but it was definitely not feminine.

And that's how the Justice League got their first ever info about the mysterious ‘Cleaner’.

Finally,  the first real data was entered into the vigilante’s (?) file: 

Name: UNKNOWN 

Alias: “The Cleaner” 

Age: UNKNOWN 

Gender: Male 

Origin: UNKNOWN 

Race: UNKNOWN 

Appearance: UNKNOWN

Power(s): Flight (or hovering,  unconfirmed which), Super strength(?), Teleportation(?), Portal creation (confirmed)

Weakness(es): UNKNOWN 

Costume: A full  black and red hazmat suit. The headgear has a black, unreflective screen that has green orbs (eyes?) shining behind it. Matte black gloves, combat boots and belt. There are compartments added to the belt. Content: UNKNOWN 

Weapon(s): a metal thermos(?) with green accents

Personality: UNKNOWN 

Affiliates: Tuck (?) (no file available)

Takedown plan(s): Impossible to make without further data 

Note:  The entity always deals with the threats quickly and effectively. Their moves speak of prior experience. 

 Ao3

The one that helped betaing this work once again is the lovely Amateum!

My hands were itching to draw something so in a 'why the fuck not' mode i drew Danny's file.

Except as sequel of this with arts and all fellas cuz am already preparing it!

The sketch:

[tourettesdog]

DP x DC prompt where, after an identity reveal gone wrong, Jazz (who is freshly 18) grabs Danny and takes him to live in Gotham where she has a scholarship. Between Danny’s ghost powers and their parents’ hatred of Gotham (something about a ghost convention gone Very Badly, and Bruce Wayne refusing to fund their research), they’re willing to risk the crime rates. 

Danny can’t resist doing his Phantom thing because of his Obsession, and within about 2.5 weeks Bruce is fighting Jazz for custody rights of him. Well, not really fighting since they could absolutely use a financial backer so Jazz can focus on school. Jazz also likes the idea of Danny getting proper training from Batman to keep him safe, since she can’t just make him stop fulfilling his Obsession.

They’ve been staying in the manor for about a week when Danny and Jazz realize that they’ve completely forgotten to address Dani. She’s continued her traveling for the last several months, but Dani told them on her last visit she was getting a bit lonely and wanted to try schooling-- after first visiting Australia, that is. 

Danny and Jazz have kept in touch with Sam and Tucker, so they know that their friends will be able to steer Dani away from Amity Park and in their direction once she gets back... But, oh Ancients, now they have to actually address the clone in the room. And probably face a massive lecture from Bruce once he realizes they never mentioned their youngest sibling (and that they also just let her fly off to Australia by herself for two months without even a cellphone).

They’re not really concerned about the bats accepting Dani (they’ve already accepted that Danny is half ghost, which is a pretty high bar to cross), but they are Very concerned about the Questions her presence will invoke. 

Danny and Jazz have managed to keep a lot of Danny’s Bigger ghost exploits under wraps (especially the time travel), but they know Bruce is going to take one look at Dani and it’s going to open up the “Hey so my arch nemesis is Vlad Masters-- yes I have an arch nemesis, and yes that Vlad Masters-- he cloned me-- why? Oh, he’s a halfa like me haha funny story-- oh and it Might be a problem if he ever finds out we’re here so you can’t confront him about any of this” can of worms.

Danny can’t be sure if Bruce will respect his tentative truce with Vlad. He’s pretty sure his new brothers and sisters will want to flog the man within an inch of his fruitloop (after)life if they ever find out about how many times he’s electrocuted Danny.

So at this point they’re just waiting for Sam and Tucker to warn them of Dani’s arrival— and trying to come up with a good cover story in the meantime. They MIGHT be able to pass Dani off as his twin (between Danny being trans and Dani mercilessly catching up to him in height, it seems doable). Only... they’re pretty sure Bruce will call immediate bullshit on them being twins once he tries to find paperwork about Dani. Hell, he probably already has access to Danny and Jazz’s birth certificates and would definitely notice a third one just magically appear (if they even managed to falsify one).

Their next idea (and the winning plan) is to be truthful about Dani being a clone, but to lie about her origins. They decide to pin all of the blame on Pariah Dark since he can’t exactly dispute clone fatherhood rights from his sarcophagus. Boom-- scapegoat.

Within the week, they get a text from Tucker saying Dani is on her way. Within the day, she’s on the front step of Wayne Manor. Dani’s hair is shorter than last time, she’s now exactly Danny’s height, and she looks a little too like him for it to not raise immediate red flags with a family of paranoid bats and birds.

It’s an absolute mess as they try to introduce Dani to the family. Just an absolute plethora of questions about clones and twins. (Apparently, the Waynes have dealt with clones before and are Very concerned? Danny didn’t even mention the word clone, they just brought that shit up in the foyer like it was common knowledge. He has to unpack that later.) 

Jason happens to be there, and he’s just staring at Dani the entire time, trying to decide if it’s worth asking why Danny’s new twin(?) feels as dead as he does.

Dani, meanwhile, hears clones mentioned and just blurts out:

“Wait, did Vlad clone you guys too?”

Danny and Jazz belatedly realize they should have ran their plan by Sam and Tucker first. In a panic, they try to pass Vlad off as Pariah Dark’s real name.

Tim just looks up the one (1) Vlad in Amity Park and it spirals from there.

[pianokantzart]

Yes please. The first scene of The Mario Brothers sets the tone for their relationship so well, and I’m so glad it carries through the entire film.  Most of the screenshots taken from this posted clip: X

I ADORE THAT THE FIRST SHOT OF THEM IN THE MOVIE IS THEM SIDE HUGGING EACH OTHER. They’re just standing there in front of the television, watching their commercial, two goobers barely able to contain the excitement of what they’ve accomplished together.

The commercial ends, and immediately they start showering each other with complements while teasing each other. “Wow! You were great!” Mario shouts while slapping Luigi’s cap over his eyes.  “I was great? Are you kidding me!? You were great!” Luigi shouts back as he playfully jabs at his brother’s stomach. 

While they’re both proud of the commercial, Mario expresses some minor worries. He says “I’m so glad we spent our life savings on this commercial” as though he was having doubts before, and wonders if the goofy Italian accent was too over the top. But Luigi is fully optimistic, describing their ad as not just some commercial, but true “cinema.” He is about to reassure Mario about the accents too, when the Giuseppe... who naturally has that same goofy over-the-top accent... chimes in to voice his support.

“Well well well...” Then a new voice joins the conversation, and the moment Mario and Luigi hear it the mood changes. Both brothers tense up and turn to look.

In an instant, their instinctual reaction is “Ah fuck, not this guy.” “...If it isn’t Brooklyn’s favorite failures, The Stupid Mario Brothers.”

“Oh great, Spike’s here.” Luigi’s comment is one of passive annoyance. He stays behind his brother, his body language anxious and anticipatory, his expression looking more and more worried the closer he gets to Spike.

“Hey, Spike.” Mario, on the other hand, is assertive. He immediately walks over and stands confrontationally in front of his old boss, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Yeah. IT’S-A ME!” Spike retorts with an imitation of Mario’s put-on Italian accent and aggressively laughs in his face. He isn’t “annoying but well-meaning” the way Mario’s uncles are, he’s deliberately trying to get under his skin. Mario squints when Spike laughs a little too close for comfort, but otherwise holds his ground and maintains his composure.

Spike wipes a tear from his eye and switches gears from obnoxious mockery to cold belittling. “Tell me, have you even gotten one call since you left me to start your dumb company?”

So right off the bat we learn two things: 1. The Mario Brothers quit Spike’s business, and he’s bitter enough about it that he’s tracked their future endeavors and goes out of his way to make fun of them for it. Clearly there’s an issue of pride here– two little nothings quitting his business to try and make it on their own? Who do they think they are? 2. Mario, in return, is bitter enough about whatever happened while they worked for Spike that he takes the bait and gives Spike the time of day. Luigi looks like he would prefer to dip out of the situation altogether, but he does his best to support Mario when he thinks he’s got a leg up…

While Mario is still taking a breath to form his reply, Luigi summons the courage to step out from behind his brother, looking smug as he waves his cellphone around. “Actually, Spike, we have!”

Mario is excited for a moment until it’s revealed the phone call is from their mom. Luigi is proud enough of her support that he sincerely considers it a bragging point, happily clinging to his sibling all the while Mario is internally begging his brother to stfu.

Then, Luigi mic-drops the phone. It audibly shatters. Instant regret. Mario looks like he’s going to implode from embarrassment.

Spike, naturally, finds this hilarious. Giggling, he grabs a napkin, wipes the pizza grease off of his beard, and lobs the crumpled napkin at Luigi. “Good luck running a business with this idiot.”

With lightning-fast reflexes, Mario reaches out and catches the napkin before it hits its target. The music takes a dramatic shift as the mood of the conversation gets more serious.

“Say that again about my brother, and you’re gonna regret it.” At that point, it might have been smarter for Mario to just throw the napkin in the nearest bin and walk away, but Spike just made the mistake of going at Luigi. Nobody is allowed to treat him like that, not while Mario’s around.

Mario retaliates by throwing the napkin back in Spike’s face, hitting him square in the forehead. Spike does not take this lightly. Where Mario has a sense of basic dignity, Spike has an overinflated ego, and he won’t take even the smallest offense lying down. He rises to his feet, fists clenched, chest puffed, ready for a fight. “Oh yeah?”

Mario also looks ready to throw down, but rather than raise his fists his first priority is to press Luigi out of harm’s way. Luigi, in the meantime, looks terrified, stepping back and bracing himself, his already anxious body language tensing further. Both Mario and Luigi are startled when Spike actually follows through with getting physical, snatching Mario by the overall straps and lifting him up off the ground.

“Get this through your tiny brain Mario: You’re a joke! and you always will be.” Mario doesn’t fight or argue, he just squints as Spike talks uncomfortably close to his face like he’s trying to goad him into throwing the first punch. Mario does not take the bait, and does not give Spike the satisfaction of any reaction at all. When it comes to petty insults like this, he can take them like a champ.

Luigi is shocked into a standstill. His gaze rapidly flicks back and forth between Spike and Mario. He has no idea what to do, he’s just worried about his brother in every sense of the word, taken aback by both the vitriolic comment and threat of an actual fight.

Spike, after getting the final word in, throws Mario to the ground. Luigi drops to his knees and holds out his hands to help his older brother up, but Mario recovers himself before Luigi can assist.

Luigi looks far more hurt by Spike’s insult than Mario, and seems to be calculating what their options are if things escalate any further. Mario holds what little ground he has, staring defiantly up with his hands clenched, as if he’s daring Spike to try something.

Luckily, things simmer down. Spike proudly dusts off his hands and heads toward the door, taking a moment to leave money on the table. He’s an asshat and a blowhard, but he still plays by society’s rules. He doesn’t dine and dash, and he’s not going to carry a confrontation further than he feels he needs to, especially not in a public restaurant. Spike has the potential to win this fight, but at the end of the day he has a business to run.

Despite having been dropped flat on his back, Mario is the first to get up. He straightens his cap and dusts himself off, staring daggers at his old employer’s back while Luigi rises to his feet and begins questioning his brother’s decision. “Are you insane!? He’s three times your size!”

Spike’s insult was cruel, but it clearly didn’t effect Mario too much. It’s more of the same ole same ole from him, and can’t be taken too seriously. Luigi is more concerned about the physical risks involved.

“Luigi, c’mon! I mean, you can’t be scared all the time.” To me, this comment doesn’t feel like Mario criticizing Luigi as much as it feels like Mario defending his own approach to life. Both him and Luigi are young (probably early 20s), little guys working in manual labor. They’re at the bottom of the totem pole, but Mario maintains his sense of pride. He’s eager to fight back against adversity and prove himself to the world, even if it means taking serious risks.

“Mmmm, you’d be surprised.” Luigi, in the meantime, has complete opposite approach when facing life’s challenges. He is not as good at rolling with the punches as Mario, and being very anxious and sensitive by nature, his way of getting along is by avoiding confrontation altogether. 

CONCLUSION: Mario’s strong drive pulls Luigi into situations that go against his instincts, but that’s for the better. If Mario hadn’t been there, Luigi definitely wouldn’t have attempted to talk back to Spike like that. Is he skilled at backtalk? Not in the least, but it’s the spirit of attempting to stand up for himself that counts. Mario gives Luigi room to be vaguely adventurous and assertive by providing protection, clearing the path, and making things easier for him whenever he can.  As a result, Luigi would follow Mario anywhere– and does, supporting him in all of his endeavors with full confidence. There is a reason why Charlie Day described Luigi as “die-hard loyal,” and for someone like Mario, who has gumption, big dreams, and a lot going against him, having someone at his side who sincerely supports and believes in him with all his heart is indispensable.

The beginning shows us a good example right off the bat of Luigi’s confidence regarding Mario’s dreams, and anxiety regarding outside threats. Meanwhile, we see glimpses of Mario’s anxiety regarding his own dreams, and confidence when facing outside threats. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: they really do balance each other out.